


Soothing

by rufeepeach



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 21:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufeepeach/pseuds/rufeepeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumpelstiltskin puts Belle's determination to be tactile to the test. She responds with gusto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soothing

**Author's Note:**

> Entirely inspired by [fairytaleasoldastime's wonderful gifset on Tumblr](http://fairytaleasoldastime.tumblr.com/post/59507553852/beauty-and-the-beast-x). What happened after that moment.

She was walking away from him, to go back to her work and leave him to his spinning, when he called her back.

“Sit on my lap dearie! Come on!”

It was an odd request, more of a challenge, really: she’d been in his castle a good month, now, and she’s always touching him, where he never instigated it. After their hug in the woods, Belle had learned that he was jittery, flighty, and oddly easily spooked, for the most powerful being alive. He needed touch, secretly craved it, and so touch she gave. Whether he asked for it or not.

He’d not rebuffed her yet. Now it seemed he was mounting a retaliation.

"Excuse me?" she called his bluff, "your lap?"

"Indeed," he grinned, and she wondered what had gotten into him, "you wanted to know about my spinning, did you not? No better seat than right before the wheel!"

Belle gaped a moment, before she recovered herself, and smiled, trying to look sultry without being eager. If he wanted to play this game with her, then she’d win.

She crossed the room to him, and daintily settled herself across his knees. She felt him swallow, hard, as his hands finding her hips to guide and settle her. She smiled, smugly: he wasn't expecting eager acceptance, apparently.

She smiled at him, brightly, "So, spinning?"

"Ah, yes," he nodded, a little shakily. "Of course!"

His hands returned to his wheel, and she curled herself around him… to give him room to move, of course. Nothing at all to do with how she had craved this accepting closeness for a month, now, nor how wonderful the hard planes of his body felt pressed against her softness.

The movement of the wheel was entrancing and soothing, and Belle quickly began to understand why he would enjoy it: Rumpelstiltskin’s mind was a complicated, dangerous place, from what she’d seen, and any small amount of calm or solace would have to come as a comfort, a balm from that. 

She was half asleep, it seemed, by the time she felt something brush against her temple. She blinked her sleepy eyes, confused: it had felt oddly like a kiss, but Rumpelstiltskin did not express affection easily. 

She pretended not to notice, but she felt her muscles tense slightly, braced for anything that might come next. What did come was a shift of his hand on her hip, and another kiss to her temple, decided this time, with a little more pressure. It was followed by a little puff of warm air, a sigh from deep in his lungs, and a murmur, “Better than nothing, I suppose.”

Belle blinked, trying not to betray her wakefulness to Rumpelstiltskin. _Better than nothing_?

Had she been wrong? Had he not been so much taken aback by her campaign of contact, as he had been unsatisfied, and craving more?

His arms tightened a little around her, as she felt her balance waver a little. His mouth brushed yet again against her forehead, and this time, Belle dared to arch a little into it, to curl in a little closer, to see what he would do.

He went rigid all over, panicked “Belle?”

“Don’t stop now,” she said, with a warm smile, “you were just getting started.”

She could feel his shock in every inch of his body, and she sighed, expecting that now he would make his excuses and push her away, that she’d have ruined everything with her stupid, reckless bravery.

But then, then another tentative kiss, and another, his hands shifting her closer and abandoning the wheel altogether. He didn’t say another word, and Belle felt rather like he was holding his breath.

She took the initiative, then, pressing a matching kiss to the exposed column of his throat. She stopped still, then, waiting, hoping that he wouldn’t pull away now.

He didn’t. He simply took a deep, shuddering breath, and swallowed hard. Emboldened by this at least lack of rejection, if not full on acceptance, Belle kissed him again, up toward his chin, until she was brushing the corner of his jaw.

Still, he didn’t move.

She sighed, her breath warm against his throat, and made a decision. She reached around, brought him face-to-face with her, and pressed her next kiss full to his mouth. 

That stirred him into action. One hand came up to cup the back of her head, slanting her mouth a little more comfortably against his own and kissing her back. Her tongue slipped and played against his lips, until he finally opened for her and allowed her to dip inside, dancing and tangling with his own. They stayed that way for a long while, kissing softly and slowly, until his lips finally left hers and began to dance along her jaw, down the side of her neck, suddenly feverish and urgent in his apparent desire to kiss all of her he could reach, to taste as much as he could before she pulled away, before this ended.

She had no intention of that happening, of course, but she admired his enthusiasm.

She gasped when he found a sensitive spot, and he smiled against her skin, worrying it with his lips and little nips of his teeth until she melted against him. She was glad that her blue dress was unclean, today, and she had been forced to revert back to her golden one: he was allowed access down her shoulder, all along her collarbones, almost worshipful in his exploration of her skin.

Belle was almost whimpering by the time he reached the tops of her breasts, and her hands tangled in the curls of his hair, holding him in place to lavish his kisses across her skin. 

She shifted in her seat on his lap, standing slightly and shuffling around so that she was sat shamefully astride him, legs on either side of his thighs, facing him head-on. He looked dazed and confused by her movements, their situation, everything, drunk on touch and affection that, she thought, he had been denied for too long. 

“Belle?” he asked, in utter confusion, but she pressed a soft finger to his lips, silencing him.

“Shh,” she whispered, with a secret smile. “Don’t think about it, just feel it.”

So long as he was like this, he would not think to end things, and push her away. He could give in to what they both, apparently, wanted, and then it would all be far harder to deny once the glow faded, and reality set back in. Belle herself felt like she was moving in a dream, as she sat herself fully back across his knees, and brought his mouth to hers once more.

Her skirts had been between them before, so much so that she had missed the hardening bulge between his legs. Their new position, however, made it abundantly clear, and she blushed fiercely even as he lost his control and plundered his mouth, desperation clear in every lap of his tongue, every grasp of his fingers in her hair, holding her close with both hands as if she’d fade away if he let go.

His other hand was splayed on the small of her back, and it shifted her closer still, until the growing ache between her thighs was pressed teasingly against his hardening length, through her pantaloons and his leathers. She moaned, then, the pressure both utterly perfect and never enough, and she began to rock impatiently, her sounds muffled against his lips.

The rocking brought more pressure to bear, and the hand in her hair slipped downward, teasing fingertip brushes over the tops of her breasts. She rolled her head back on her shoulders, gasping in delight, encouraging him with tugs and scrapes of her fingers in his hair as he danced and dipped lower, his deft fingers slipping into the bodice of her dress, and teasing the soft flesh concealed within.

She ground her hips down against him as he did that, teasing the sensitive peaks of her breasts as his hardness, still sheathed in leather, did the same to her private places. His own eyes slipped closed, lips twitching in delight, and she almost laughed for pure joy, holding back only because she knew how badly he could misinterpret that, for mockery or humour at a time when all she felt was passion.

His hands slid around her back, and pulled her closer still, so that her chest was crushed flush against his, and oh yes, there was pressure again, now against her breasts, teasing her somehow still further.

She could feel her pleasure mounting, her hips moving of their own accord as his own began to match her, desperate little high whimpers and low groans falling from his lips, even as they kissed again, any former finesse lost in their utter desperation to simply take and take and _take_.

She began to moan aloud, her release fast approaching, and he moved one hand down from her back, moving to cup and rub at his hardness while his knuckles now pressed a place that made her see stars.

She rocked harder, faster, feeling the wetness pooling between her thighs and how much better it all felt, the pressure and the movement and the pleasure spiralling her higher and higher, bursting sunlight behind her eyes until she felt she was coming undone at the seams, moaning a release far more powerful than anything her own fingers had ever accomplished as she continued to ride his hand and his concealed cock through the pleasurable tremors and shocks that wracked her body.

She felt when he followed her over the precipice, the fevered, wet kisses to her throat and collarbone, the rigidity of his muscles and the groan caught in his throat. Then, little by little, he relaxed against her, holding her close as he too came down from his high.

Yes, Belle thought dreamily, she liked sitting in Rumpelstiltskin’s lap. Especially when she thought she’d found something even more soothing for him than his spinning.


End file.
